


Got Me in a Spin

by stardustblakie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, Gen, band au, but its fine we will vibe, fenris plays bass, god its probably gonna be a bit ooc, hawke is a drummer, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28084182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustblakie/pseuds/stardustblakie
Summary: (FenHawke Band AU, title subject to change)When the bassist of Hawke's band suddenly announces their departure, just as they're starting to gain traction in the music business, it's up to him to make sure that their replacement is a good choice. He doesn't quite plan to fall in love with the new member in the process.
Relationships: Fenris/Male Hawke
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm just going to warn in advance that there is no set schedule to when I will post chapters for this because I am a disorganised mess! Having said that, I hope you guys like this <3

It starts quietly at first, a few haphazard yells breaking out from the hum, but the lights have dimmed on the stage and everyone sitting in the audience knows exactly what that means.

Showtime.

The cheers build louder, a cacophonous roar that can be clearly heard from backstage. Hawke is twirling his drumsticks between his fingers, the usual calming ritual he undertakes to try and clear his mind before a performance. 

Isabela places a hand on his shoulder, flashing the same dazzling smile she always does when she’s about to give one of her famous pep-talks. 

“C’mon, Hawke, you have to get your sexy ass out there and stun the crowd- we can’t play without our badass drummer.”

It helps, it really does, but it doesn’t stop Hawke from rolling his eyes and nudging her in return with an uncomfortable whine. 

“It’s just like every other show on the tour,” his sister Bethany smiles across at him and that _really_ helps to put his mind at ease. She’s right, they’ve done this fourteen times already. It’s the last show of their international tour and then they’re back to the studio to record their next album. 

After a well-earned fortnight of rest, of course. 

It’s a little more daunting _because_ it’s the last show, though. There’s this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that this has to be the best one of the entire tour, no slip ups, no technical errors- he definitely doesn’t want a repeat of the Show Number Seven Incident- and most importantly no hesitation. 

He usually feels better once a show is in full swing, but he remembers a very vivid recollection of the time during probably the fifth or sixth show where he missed his cue and froze up entirely. 

The drummer is the backbone of the entire band. They set the pace, they keep the timing. Without them, the whole song falls apart. Hawke is a little too hyper-aware of this sometimes. He tries not to be, but sometimes the nagging reminder that _everything relies on him_ gets a little too much to handle. 

The reminders from his bandmates that it really isn’t that stressful, that worst case scenario they can- and certainly have done before- improvise around him, do at least something to help. It’s enough to make him take a deep breath, to feel the muscles in his shoulders finally stop tensing, and to calm his mind. 

“I’m good,” Hawke nods and he means it. He feels better than he did moments prior, ready to finally get out on stage and kick the night off. 

Aveline, the band’s manager and one of Hawke’s other close friends, finally walks up to the band members and starts to usher them towards the steps that lead up onto the stage from behind. 

“It’s now or never, they’re getting too restless,” she says with a supportive pat to Hawke’s back. She does the same to Isabela, Bethany and their bassist, a peculiar character called Jethann.

“You’re right!” Isabela exclaims with all the confidence and sincerity of the entertainer that she is. “Let’s do this thing.”

Bethany and Isabela walk out onto the stage first, the latter waving her hands up in the air and absolutely revelling in the sudden resurgence of noise that the quietening audience provides for her. She adjusts the headset on her ears just slightly as she addresses the crowd, drawing out her words with an enthusiastic flair that only she could manage. 

“HELLO PARIS! ARE. YOU. READY. TO. ROCK?”

The cheers explode, Hawke is amazed they can get any louder. Whistles, people yelling out ‘I LOVE YOU GUYS!’ and other miscellaneous sounds join the discordant symphony and he can’t help but smile as he walks onto the stage. He sits himself down at the drumkit, quickly familiarising himself with where everything is. It’s not the same drumkit he used last time, it usually never is from show to show- their budget hasn’t been high enough to have a fancy tour bus to bring their own equipment with them, so they’ve been shoving into a minivan and hoping for the best.

Feeling the energy in the crowd, the fact that every single one of these people are all here to enjoy the music that his band plays, it’s the push that Hawke needs to finally forget his worries. Knowing that people are there for them, that they love the band and will probably still love the band even if there is some minor technicality that messes something up, is enough for him. 

He raises his arms over his head and taps his drumsticks together to set the beat for the opening song, instinctively tapping his foot as well as he gets ready to start hitting the bass drum. 

The lead guitar kicks in first and Bethany doesn’t miss a beat, moving straight into the opening riff and playing it flawlessly. This song is her least favourite, but nobody would ever be able to tell with the way she plays it. 

It’s Hawke’s turn next as the drumbeat starts up and he’s moving on instinct, having played this song enough times that he could probably do it with his eyes closed if he tried. He doesn’t try, though, because that most minuscule remnant of anxiety reminds him that even though he knows this song so well he absolutely _must not mess it up._

Jethann has joined in with the bass by now, a pretty simple chord progression for this first song in order to warm up for the much more intense songs later on in the show. One even has a bass solo that he absolutely loves to go overboard with, so it’s good that he gets to start off easier. 

By the time four bars have played, Isabela’s smooth vocals join the layers of instruments and everything has finally come together. 

The show is off to a brilliant start and the crowd love every moment of it. Hawke can’t help but let the energy of the audience radiate through him too, it’s infectious and this is absolutely his favourite part about performing. 

He’s calmed down entirely now, like he knew he would, and it’s nice to settle into the show routine he’s been used to for the last few months as the opening song comes to an end and they kick straight into the next one.

A few songs later and Isabela takes a moment to address the crowd and start a short monologue interlude so that the rest of her bandmates can go offstage and catch their breaths. She works just as hard as the rest of them, but her stamina seems inconceivably endless and she always insists she takes over so that her ‘poor precious babies’ can get a drink and cool off for five minutes midway through. 

Their show isn’t actually that long, only an hour and a half set, but Hawke certainly doesn’t complain about the chance to stretch out his legs. 

He grabs one of the bottles of water that Aveline has brought to him with a grateful smile, downing most of it in one go before placing it on top of one of the unused speakers that is littered around the backstage area to finish off just before he has to go back.

“Things are going well,” notes Merrill, the band’s self-appointed costumer-slash-makeup artist and also close friend, as she bounds over to the musicians. She has a bottle of hairspray hanging out of a pouch in her belt loop, it’s far too large to fit in there but somehow it’s balancing. “The crowd really love you guys!”

“They always do,” chimes in Anders, who also moves over to join them. 

He’s the band’s ‘first aid guy’. More specifically he got so sick of seeing Isabela and Bethany go overboard with the “super cool badass stunt moves” that they always pull- and end up coming to him for help for when they inevitably injure themselves in some way or another- that he decided to start tagging along to be able to help out quicker. Hawke decided it was a good idea to give Anders his own title anyway to make it seem like he was a more official crew member, and Anders had certainly seemed to appreciate the sentiment at the time. 

“So, final show, how are you guys feeling?” Anders addresses the group, but he’s looking at Hawke in particular. Having been his best friend for a long time, he knows the man’s feelings about change and things ending to know that he probably isn’t taking it as well as he seems to be. Hawke knows that Anders knows this and he nods as he makes eye contact, quietly confirming that he in particular is actually doing okay with this. 

“It’s sad that it’s going to be over,” Bethany admits with a sad look in her eyes, before she perks up again. “But I’ve had so much fun! This was our first ever proper tour, with actually big audiences and we even sold out one of our shows.”

“Yeah, Italy really love us,” Jethann laughs, busying his hands with his pick. His bass is still strapped across him, unlike Bethany who decided to place her guitar to one side whilst she rested. 

They continue discussing their favourite parts of the show for a moment longer, before Jethann coughs and everyone turns to face him at once. 

“I wanted to say this whilst most of you are here, though I probably should have waited for Isabela,” he begins and Bethany purses her lips. Aveline looks like she already knows where this is going and Hawke assumes it’s bad news. 

“I’m leaving after this show. I don’t want anything to do with the band anymore, it just isn’t my scene.”

“You’re leaving?” Merrill echoes with a frown. “But I thought you loved it here!”

“I did, I mean I do, but you’re getting really famous really quickly and I don’t want to be in the spotlight like that. It was fun for me when we were small, playing in bars and shit like that, but this is scary and I can’t keep pretending it isn’t.”

His explanation makes sense. Hawke couldn’t deny that the band’s sudden surge in popularity was jarring, intimidating even. There had been a few late night conversations accented with the afternote of a few drinks that showed that the others shared the sentiment too, but he had never realised that Jethann felt that way too- because he hadn’t been around to talk about it. 

Hawke wasn’t ever really sure why Jethann stayed as a part of their band to begin with. He never hung out with the others outside of typical ‘band stuff’ and even then he wasn’t too involved with things. He’s a good bassist, though, the best they could find when they were getting together, and he knew Isabela well at the time so it just worked. By the time they were catapulted into semi-fame, it was too late to try and get rid of him. He was too popular with the fans.

It wasn’t that Hawke disliked Jethann, far from it, but it was always weird planning to hang out after shows when he was there and, despite asking him every single time if he wanted to come along, having him sit there as the rest of the plans got made without him. 

If anything, Jethann declaring his departure from the band made even more sense when Hawke took that into consideration. Perhaps it wasn’t part of the reason at all, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was. 

“It makes sense,” Aveline nods. “I’m sure nobody here is going to blame you for wanting out before things get too crazy. The music business can be a lot.”

Ever the voice of reason, Aveline. She was always going to be the best person to manage the band, with her steady diplomaticism and her incredible conflict resolution skills. Not to mention that she could successfully scare the shit out of anyone that was out of line. But overall she was kind and fair, which meant that situations like this didn’t feel as stressful as they probably should.

“What will you do after tonight then?” Hawke asks, finally picking up that bottle of water he abandoned as he sees one of the venue staff signal that they have one minute left before Isabela is meant to be done with her interlude and finishing it. 

“I want to start doing more intimate shows again, smaller things, maybe find a random band that needs a bassist, maybe even go back to playing acoustic and doing my own smaller shows.” Jethann has a fond smile as he thinks about his future plans and Hawke knows that him leaving is the right thing. 

It might be a pain for the band for a while as they decide what to do with his absence, but it’s what Jethann clearly needs to do with his life and Hawke wouldn’t dare so much as even suggest trying to stop him. 

“That sounds brilliant,” Hawke smiles, and it’s a genuine smile. He’s happy that Jethann will be doing something he enjoys. Even if he hadn’t been all that involved with the band _outside_ of the band, he had still been an integral member of the group and Hawke was happy enough to consider him a friend for the time he had been there. “You’re gonna do great.”

Jethann thanks him as they start to head back onto the stage to perform again, met with the crowd roaring impossibly loudly again. The smile on Hawke’s face doesn’t fade, it just grows larger as he settles back down at his drumkit and strikes up the next song. 

Sure, things might be a little difficult for a while for the band, but for now he can enjoy every single moment of the rest of this show. 

When they close up the show, Isabela finally just as tired as the rest of them from jumping around the entire stage- and almost into the crowd once- during the finale, Hawke notices Jethann acting somewhat strange as everyone filters into the little back room that the venue owners set aside for the band to relax in before and after the show.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” 

When Jethann nods, Hawke leads him back out of the room and settles down against the wall just outside the door. 

“It’s okay that you want to leave, you know. Like Aveline said, none of us blame you for it.”

“I know,” Jethann sighs. It’s the most vulnerable he’s ever seen the other man look before. There’s usually a cheery facade being kept up, but he just looks downright exhausted now. “I feel bad for leaving, but I know it’s what’s best for me.”

“You’re absolutely right, it is. We’ll survive on our own, you have to do what makes you happy.” Hawke places a hand on his shoulder and Jethann seems to stop tensing up at the action. “You are a great musician and whatever you do with your future will be great.”

“You’re awfully good at these pep talk things, you should take over from Isabela sometime,” Jethann laughs, pulling away to go back to the door. “I needed to hear that, thank you.”

“Any time.” Hawke is sincere, he always is. It’s one of his best traits, at least that’s what all his friends try and tell him. 

They both join the rest of their band and crew members in the breakroom, where Isabela already has a half-empty celebratory bottle of rum in her hands- Hawke is pretty sure that the bottle was full when he left it in there earlier in the day- and the others are listening to a story that she’s telling with great exaggeration. 

It’s a blissful norm, one that will still stick around after Jethann is gone, but it won’t be the same. 

And in it’s own way, that’s okay. 

Hawke decides that it’s a new chapter for the band, that there isn’t any need to be sad about it. 

Though there was still the issue of what to do with a distinct lack of a bassist for a band whose songs contain an awful amount of bass guitar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Anders sit through a nightmare of an audition session, before finding hope when they least expect it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't beta read this so im sorry if there are errors :((

“I mean, we technically don’t  _ need  _ a new bassist,” Isabela reasons, holding her palms out to metaphorically weigh out the options. “We can always have a backing track with the bassline for live performances if we need to, and for new content we can always either have simpler basslines that Bethany could learn or just not include a bass guitar- tons of cool bands don’t have a bassist!”

She’s trying her best to provide alternative routes, after the band had tried and failed to think of anyone they could possibly ask to replace Jethann. It had been three hours and they were all tired, crammed around the small dining table in Hawke’s flat. Aveline, Merrill and Anders had joined in for the sake of emotional support and to help if they could, but they had mostly ended up leaning back against the wall for the majority of the discussion without much to say.

“We can improvise,” Hawke affirms, nodding. “But it would be easier in the long run to have someone else be our bassist. It’s less stress on Bethany and even if we can’t find a bass player, we can at least try and find a keyboardist who can play the basslines like that instead- it just won’t sound exactly the same.”

“This really all comes down to how you guys want your sound to change as you keep making music,” pipes up Varric, the band’s songwriter, as he leans across the table to steal a piece of fruit from in front of Isabela just as she’s about to take it herself. She lets out an indignant huff and crosses her arms, pouting. “You can ditch bass entirely, but you’ll end up sounding less like a rock band. Which isn’t a bad thing, as long as you think you’ll still maintain a fanbase.”

“I might know someone,” Merrill chimes, causing every head in the room to turn to focus on her. 

“And you’ve been holding off on us all this time?” Isabela pouts further. 

“They probably won’t want to do it! That’s why I didn’t say anything… but it looks like we don’t have any better options so we might as well try it now.”

“Who are they?” Bethany asks, placing a hand atop Isabela’s arm to stop her pouting. The latter smiles over at her partner and perks up again.

“I met him when I was at college,” Merrill begins to explain. “He’s a little private- and he hasn’t actually played with a band for years- but I got in touch with him again last year and he might agree if I ask him nicely.”

“He sounds like he’ll be a pain in the ass,” Aveline comments. “Are you sure he’s the only option?”

“I mean, we don’t have any better choices right now,” Hawke notes. It’s true. This lead of Merrill’s, whether he will be willing to cooperate or not, is probably the best chance they have at the moment. Otherwise, he thinks, Hawke might as well start trying to learn to play bass himself.

“What about open auditions?” Aveline suggests, pulling out a digital tablet. She starts scrolling through something on the screen. “It wouldn’t be too hard to organise, we’d only need a small venue, etcetera.” One hand waves almost dismissively as she speaks. “It would be easy.”

“That’s the best idea anyone has had this entire time,” Varric exclaims, raising his arms dramatically. “Finally we can get somewhere with this.”

“I don’t see you coming up with good ideas like that,” Aveline retorts with a grin, typing something onto her tablet screen before placing it away again. “I booked a venue for the fifteenth, you guys can sit down all day and listen to people play bass at you then right?”

“We’re in Spain that weekend.” Bethany gestures to Isabela as she speaks. “But Hawke can do it alone! Can’t you, Hawke?” She looks at him expectantly and he blinks as he registers what’s happening. 

He can sit through a bunch of people auditioning, sure, he spent enough time doing that for his university’s music society when he was younger. Doing it alone, however, was a different story. All the decision-making rested solely on him. If whoever he chose wasn’t a good pick, that was entirely on his own head. 

The puppy-dog eyes that both Isabela and Bethany are making at him as he mulls it over make him sigh, running a hand through his hair as he comes to a premature decision that isn’t at all swayed by the display in front of him. 

“Yeah, I can do it. Are you sure none of you can come along too?”

“I can be there if you need me,” Anders offers and Hawke lets out a sigh of relief. “I can’t offer any good advice, though, you’ll still have to be the one doing the proper judging or whatever.”

“Do you guys really trust me to make this decision for the band?” He asks. Aveline starts to laugh, followed by Bethany and Isabela. Even Varric joins in and he watches them with a frown. “What’s so funny?”

“Hawke, you  _ started this band.  _ If anyone should be making a decision on behalf of the rest of us, it’s you. You recruited us in the first place.”

Bethany is correct, but he can’t help thinking that he still shouldn’t be the one to do this. 

“Sure I started the band, but your input is just as important.”

“Fine then,” Isabela announces. “If you choose someone and we don’t like them, we’ll hold another audition some other time and we can be there for it.”

Arguing the point further wouldn’t get Hawke anywhere now, as he knew he would lose. He would have to trust that his bandmates did actually trust him to make a good decision.

It isn’t until the morning of the fifteenth, when he’s rushing around in a hastened panic in the same room of the same flat- though notably it’s easier to move around now without six other people in there- that he realises just how unprepared he is to sit down and judge a group of individuals on how well they play the bass.

He never bothered to learn the guitar growing up, or anything remotely familiar to one. The only thing he can play apart from the drums is a tiny bit of piano, which he never ended up learning past about Grade 4. There was never a need to learn anything else, drums were what he liked and so drums were what he stuck with. 

That did, however, mean he was now about to sit through about twenty people playing bass and he didn’t have too much of a clue how he was supposed to be judging them fairly. 

Sure, he had picked up enough from playing with Jethann as to how a good bassline was meant to sound, but he also hadn’t had a chance to experience what  _ bad  _ bass playing was. 

The worry about this situation sticks with him the entire way to the venue- a little building off to the side of a big recital hall that was probably used as a practice space. He stands outside the doors, checking the time on his phone. He’s about half an hour early, which is good, because it gives him some time to compose himself before anyone else arrives. 

Anders hasn’t arrived yet, but Hawke can’t blame him. He’s only ever with the band when he gets a spare moment, which lucky has been more often than it used to be. As a medical student who never actually went  _ into  _ medicine, at least in the traditional sense, Anders had been rather sporadically around in the past. His schedules were all over the place, working as a volunteer medic for a charity organisation. Sometimes he won’t be needed for a whole week, others he will be working 15-hour shifts every day for a fortnight. Hawke rather quickly got used to not expecting Anders to show up to things, and not in a negative way at all.

He does arrive, however, five minutes later- looking almost as dishevelled as Hawke did himself, a coffee gripped tightly in one hand. 

“The train was a nightmare,” he sighs as he takes the keys straight out of Hawke’s hand and opens the doors to the building. “Not only running late, but delayed down the line for roadworks. It’s the Underground, why are there roadworks?”

“The Underground is a mess, that’s why,” Hawke laughs, following Anders into the practice space. 

It’s rather spacious for such a small building, with a little hallway to walk down that stretches off into two different rooms. Someone has already placed signs on each door, the larger of which being the room for auditionees to wait their turn and the smaller the one where Hawke and Anders would be making themselves comfortable for the next five hours. 

Once they set themselves down in the audition room, they spend the next few moments making small talk about things they had missed in the other’s lives recently, from the issues Hawke had been having with his neighbours- a rather interesting turf war with houseplants out in the hallway that joined their flats together- to the new kitten that Anders had just rescued and brought home. 

“His name is Ser Pounce-A-Lot,” Anders announces proudly and Hawke bursts out laughing. 

“You’re really attached to that name?”

“As a matter of fact, it’s very fitting for him,” Anders rebukes with a frown. “He likes it too. Besides, I call him Pounce for short.”

“Okay, Pounce is definitely an improvement.” Hawke glances over at the clock again. People were supposed to start arriving around ten minutes prior, so he decides he should probably check to see if anyone is actually waiting around for them. 

As soon as he opens the door to step out into the hallway, he regrets it. 

People are everywhere, practically swarming the place. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice sooner with all the commotion going on- though that was simply a testament to how well-soundproofed the rooms were, clearly. 

A group of people are practicing on the far side by the front door, the steady sound of plucking all but drowned out by the rest of the bustle. There has to be at least twenty five people in the hallway alone. 

Hawke manages to push through the crowd fairly unnoticed, as most people are too busy fretting over their upcoming audition, to reach the door on the opposite side of the hall. 

It’s busier in there, just as he expected, and he peeks through the window with a rising feeling of panic creeping up on him. 

There were only meant to be about thirty people here in total, and instead there’s closer to a hundred. Maybe even more than that. The posters Aveline made for the others to put up had definitely done their job well. 

Before he gets the chance to escape back into the audition room, to fret to Anders about the predicament, he’s stopped by one of the strangers in the hallway.

“You’re Hawke right?” The currently disembodied voice asks and Hawke glances around to see who has asked for his attention. They’re short, maybe just pushing five feet, which makes sense as to why he hadn’t seen them at first at his own significantly-over-six-foot stature. 

He confirms, and their eyes light up as if he just told them he was about to give them a thousand pounds. They start to strike up a conversation about how they had been a fan of the band since ‘the beginning’- which they insist was the first show they played at some small pub in Hackney, when in reality they had  _ never  _ played in any venues in Hackney. 

Was this really what most of these people were going to be like? Hawke hopes he had just caught the worst of them as he politely excuses himself and pushes back into the audition room. Anders is there with a hand over his mouth, trying to contain his laughter. 

“I popped my head out for five seconds to see how you were getting on and I didn’t expect to see you having your ear talked off like that,” he tries to sound casual about it, but his voice quavers as he stifles his laughs. 

“There are so many people out there, Anders,” Hawke sighs. “Aveline told me we’d have thirty, maybe fourty at the absolute most. Not a hundred.”

“You can do this. Besides, who said you had to audition everyone? We’re scheduled to use this space for five hours, if we haven’t seen everyone by then it’s their loss.”

Anders has a point, Hawke notes, there’s no reason to sit around worrying about the amount of people when they’re there for a set time- not a set amount of people.

He takes a breath and calls for the first person to come in to audition and with his luck he isn’t surprised that the person closest to the door is the one he spoke to out in the hallway. 

As they take to the front of the room, holding their bass close to their chest, they begin what Hawke can only assume is the remainder of whatever conversation they had started with him before. 

His phone lets off a sharp ‘ding!’ and he checks the screen to see a text from Anders. 

**_Anders - (9:34am)_ **

_ can i assume we’re saying no to this one? _

**_Hawke - (9:34am)_ **

_ Yea i think so lol _

The rest of the day doesn’t exactly flow as smoothly, either. 

A rather eccentric mix of individuals had shown up to the auditions, which was great in its own regard, but when there is absolutely no discernable talent at all to be found it begins to get a little draining. It was as if no actual trained musicians had shown up at all, but instead it had been treated as a chance to try and meet some of the band members. 

For a not-quite-yet-popular band, it’s jarring to see such a mass of people showing up just for that. Evidently, the band is more popular than they’ve been assuming. Or, at least, it’s experienced a sudden surge in notoriety in the last week or so. 

Hawke decides he’s glad that Isabela and Bethany are living it up in gorgeous sunny Spain instead of having to sit through this with him, because not only is he certain that they would hate it more than he currently is, but that the auditionees would only be that much more unbearable knowing that there were even more people for them to meet. 

Anders finds it all far too amusing, purposely taking his leave halfway through for some air to leave Hawke completely alone at one point. Hawke makes a mental note to try and kill him in his sleep for his betrayal when he next has the chance. When he returns, Hawke greets him with a glare, which is countered with a sickly sweet false smile. 

When the clock finally hits 2:30pm, not that Hawke had been counting down the minutes since midday or anything, he watches the last auditionee leave the room before stretching out. Sending away a bunch of people had been difficult, but it was a necessary evil. 

“Glad it’s over?” Anders asks, flipping through a magazine he had picked up during his break. 

“We didn’t find a single person who could actually play bass properly, let alone play along to one of our songs. This was a nightmare.”

Hawke takes a second to recall the point, at around 1pm, where in a moment of desperation he asked anyone who didn’t have any musical training to file out of the building. The crowd settled down to about half of its original size, which meant there could still be hope, but apparently even those were only lying to stick around.

There had been the rare few that were promising, a handful who had come in explaining that they could play guitar so they could take the time to learn bass, and their names and emails had been written down. It wasn’t what they needed, but it would have to do if nothing else had come of this.

“It’s not the end of the world, you guys can hold more auditions or something if you need to. Maybe ones that are a little more structured and not so,” Anders waves his hand around a bit, “open?”

“You’re right, we can always try again.” Hawke picks up his bag and throws it over his shoulder, checking his pockets for the keys to lock the building back up. With them firmly nestled in the palm of his hand, he scans the room to ensure he hasn’t left anything behind and holds the door open for Anders to walk out first. 

“We sent people home like fifteen minutes ago, you’re late,” Hawke can hear Anders say as he locks the door behind him. He didn’t realise anyone else was still around.

He sighs as he turns around to face the straggler, but his breath hitches in his throat against his will when he looks at them. 

The man is easily a foot shorter than Hawke is, but somehow he doesn’t seem necessarily short. He holds himself quite upright, as if if he even slouched for a split second he would fall apart. A guitar case, a pretty fancy looking one at that, is strapped to his back. It seems promising. Hawke tries not to hold out hope. 

“Merrill told me to come here, uh, apparently you’re friends?” His voice is deep, with a smoothness to it that is just overall pleasing to the ears. 

Maybe Hawke can keep him talking for a while. 

“You’re the college friend?” He asks, taking a second to think if Merrill had actually described this college friend. 

Even if she had, she probably wouldn’t have done him justice. His short white hair was covered mostly by a grey beanie, but his bangs framed his face perfectly and- oh god was it in a low ponytail at the back?

“I go by Fenris, but if that’s how she introduced me then yes.”

Damn even his name was pretty. 

“And you actually play the bass?” Anders asks, taking over the important questions when he notices Hawke spending a little too much time observing the newcomer. 

“Have done for about fifteen years,” Fenris replies. “Look, is it still too late to audition or can I actually try out?”

Anders pulls Hawke back into the audition room after unlocking it, shutting the door behind them.

“I don’t like him,” Anders states matter-of-factly. 

“Wait, why?” Hawke peeks his head back out of the door to make sure Fenris hasn’t gotten the wrong idea and walked away. He’s still there, looking absolutely amazing. Anders drags Hawke back inside. 

“I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling about him.”

“We can’t turn him down based on a ‘bad feeling’, Anders, we have to at least let him audition. He’s probably our best chance right now.”

Hawke pokes his head back out of the door again.

“You can come and play something for us if you want,” he says with as much of a semblance of calm as he can muster, as if he isn’t trying to fight off Anders’ attempt to pull him back into the room. 

Finally, Anders admits defeat and throws his arms up in the air, moving to sit back down at the seat he had occupied for the last few hours. Hawke sits down next to him with a triumphant grin as Fenris walks in and sets up to start playing. 

The little scowl on Anders’ face subsides as the audition progresses. Fenris is a good bassist, really good. Or at the very least, he seems that way after the hoardes of terrible auditions they’ve had to sit through during the day. 

Hawke notices this and smiles. 

Maybe they had finally found their new bassist. 


End file.
